by B. V. Larson
But how could a man out-think himself? I had to assume all the immediate dodges had already occurred to past McGills, and they’d failed to impress. The only thing I could come up with was something that I knew and my past selves hadn’t, that this was my seventh time around. Maybe I could use that.
“Seven was always my mom’s lucky number,” I said. “You pricks have mammas, don’t you?” I looked at the one called Randy, the meaner one, thoughtfully. “Well, maybe not you.”
“You’re going to insult us?” Randy asked in return, shaking his head. “You’ve gone down that road. I have to admit, you can come up with some good insults when you want to.”
I didn’t have an answer. I was breathing hard and testing my bonds. They held me firmly. Steel clamps were good for that.
Randy straightened up and sighed. “Well, we already know where your sensitive areas are so we might as well get started.”
He moved around behind me, which freaked me out a little. I couldn’t crank my neck around far enough to see what he was up to. The other guy, Bill, put his butt on a table and crossed his arms.
“We know your back isn’t that much of an issue for you,” Randy said, almost like he was talking about a group project we were all involved in. “Some men don’t like a kidney punch, but you suck them right up.”
He was right, and that made me feel a bit sick inside because it meant he really did know me.
“Yes, let’s speed this up,” I said. “Just to check, you already know about Claver, right? That he had a small smuggler’s ship docked with the Nairb ship?”
“We know about that,” Bill said while Randy fooled around behind my back, rattling metal objects. “At least we’ve heard that lie before.”
“How do you know it’s a lie?”
“Because Claver has already communicated with us. If he’d been left unconscious in a docked ship, he would’ve been dead like everyone else aboard.”
“Okay then. I can only assume he escaped.”
“Fair enough—the trouble is he hasn’t verified one word of your story. He was never on that ship, McGill. He doesn’t have mini-missile pods or anything else. He’s shown us pictures and cargo rosters. Your lies have already been disproven.”
I felt something then, a sharp stabbing pain that went on and on. Someone was driving a needle into my back. I hissed and squirmed, but that didn’t make it any better.
“That works pretty good,” said Randy from behind me. “You see Bill? This man doesn’t mind a punch in the back, but a needle—that’s different.”
“Yeah,” said Bill, as if bored and a little uncomfortable.
“Looks like I kicked the wrong guy,” I said.
“No, no,” said Randy cheerfully. “Bill is just as big of an asshole as I am. Now, next question.”
“What’s the point?” I demanded between gritted teeth. “You already know my story. There’s only one answer for why you’re on revive number seven.”
“What’s that?” Randy asked.
“You’re having fun, that’s all. This is a kick for you. Bill here, he was honestly pissed. I can understand that. But you Randy—you’re the sick fuck, aren’t you?”
The needle was driven in again, and it was going for broke. I twisted and writhed.
Finally, Bill’s big hand came down on the sadist’s wrist. “That’s enough. McGill’s right. No one dies seven times telling the same story. We’re not going to get anything else out of him.”
The freak looked disappointed. He sighed. “Yep, I guess it’s over. Time to end it. Goodbye McGill. It’s been fun, but you’re all used up now.”
I glared at him while he put a black hood over my face.
“Too chicken-shit to kill a helpless man who looks you in the eye, huh? Just as I thought—a pair of wimps.”
They pulled off the hood, and Bill looked at me curiously.
“Why keep lying, McGill?” he asked. “Why keep lying and dying? This is your last go-round. You’re permed after this. It’s all signed, sealed and delivered.”
“I’ve got my orders,” I said. “I can’t talk to anyone less than an officer. And besides, I’m not going to be permed.” I laughed and let blood dribble on my chest. “If you clowns only knew how many times I’ve been killed and told I was permed—I’ll be back alive in a week.”
They looked curious. Maybe I hadn’t talked this way before. Maybe past McGills had taken different approaches. Me—I knew I was screwed so I didn’t care anymore.
“What do you mean you’ll be back?”
I told them real shockers then. I told them about killing a Galactic back on Steel World, being executed for it and coming back. I told them about a few other times, too, where I should never have drawn breath again. They listened, and I could tell they’d never heard these stories before. They seemed a little shocked and upset.
“That’s crazy,” Bill said. “You can’t just go killing Galactics and erasing their tappers.”
“We’ve all got our jobs to do,” I said. “Your work is easier than mine, that’s all. You get off on it, I understand. Everyone has their dark secrets. But you’re not going to perm me. You’re just having a bit of fun.”
Bill’s face darkened at my off-handed assumption he was a sadist. He didn’t like to think of himself as a sadist. Randy, on the other hand, never argued with my accusations. I could tell he’d made peace with what he was.
“We’ve got to report this,” Bill said.
“Aw come on, it’s total bullshit.”
Eventually, Bill called for an officer. It took a while, but they brought in a new face. She was familiar to me, but not really a friend. It was Centurion Belter.
“He keeps telling us that he’ll talk to you, sir,” Bill said. “He’s got some crazy stories—things that might change our status with the Empire. I thought it would be best to bring in an officer as he requested before we perm him.”
Belter frowned at them, then at me. She crossed her arms under her small, tight breasts and stared. “What do you have to say, McGill?”
“We aren’t screwed. The ship blew up before it hit Gamma Pavonis’ corona, didn’t it?”
“Yes, but that could be due to—”
“A lot of things, I know. But I know exactly why it happened.”
I told her about Claver and his squid mini-missiles. When the region of space and the wreckage that was still orbiting the star was analyzed, the radiation signatures would implicate the squids, not us.
“The Nairbs aren’t going to buy it, McGill. Even if you’re right. Claver has evidence all lined up to show he wasn’t involved.”
“Okay,” I said. “Then we’ll have to blame the squids for an outright attack. We should do that anyway—why not lie? The Empire should declare war on the squids, not just call them neutrals. This is the second Imperial ship they’ve destroyed.”
“They marked the cephalopods as exterminated back on Dust World and didn’t pursue it further.”
“Why not?” I demanded. “Because they’re weak, that’s why not. They don’t have a fleet out here, so they don’t want a war. We should make them join us. Force them to follow their own policies against the squids.”
Centurion Belter nodded tiredly. “You’re probably right, but it doesn’t really matter. You’ve been tried and convicted. You’re to be permed. I’m sorry about that as I owe you one.”
I glanced over at the two fiends. “Take me out of here. Let me talk to you about something important you don’t know. Then you can do what you have to.”
She shook her head, and the two guards laughed. “That’s not going to happen, McGill,” she said.
“All right then, get them out of here, and turn off the recorders.”
She thought about it for a minute then ordered the guards to leave. They didn’t like it, but she outranked them. She switched off the recorders and faced me.
“What?”
“You’ve got to know a few things about Imperator Turov.”
&
nbsp; Her eyes widened a little. “I’ve heard things—about you and her.”
“I’m not talking about personal stuff. I’m talking about geopolitical realities. She ordered me to kill the Nairb ship. Check the logs. She was the last one I talked to before leaving Cyclops.”
Belter was frowning now. I had her attention.
“Why the hell would she do that?”
“Because we worked together to kill a Galactic—back on Earth. You remember that ‘accident’ that happened with an air car on top of Central?”
She nodded slowly. Her frown was bigger than ever.
“Didn’t that seem a little odd to you? Well, it was bullshit. Turov and Claver were up to all kinds of shenanigans, and the Galactic found out. She ordered me to kill him, and we faked the wreck together. Then we erased the Galactic’s latest mind back-up and pushed him over the side of the building.”
She snorted. “That’s absurd.”
“It happened. I was there. She was there. Check the logs, not the candied up news reports. Here’s something interesting—Graves and Leeson needed a revive after that accident, too. Why was that? They weren’t in the air car, were they?”
“Shut up for a second,” she said. She was working her tapper quickly. She brought up the official reports of that fateful day’s events and went over them.
“Okay,” she said after a few minutes. “Let’s say I believe your crazy story. How the hell did you erase the mental backup of a Mogwa official?”
“Now you’re thinking,” I said encouragingly. “The answer to that one is in Turov’s office. In fact, it’s probably in her pocket.”
She looked at me curiously. “She wouldn’t let us question you and perm you if all this was true. She has too much to hide.”
I laughed. “I’m not getting permed. Abused, yes. But not permed. I work for her. I just thought I’d give you a few pointers on how things went around here to help you out. If you stay quiet about all this, now that you know the score, you’ll keep your career intact.”
I thought I had her pretty bamboozled by now. Most of my story was true, but not my importance, which I was exaggerating. Hell, Turov was probably hoping they’d perm my ass after torturing me for a while.
Belter moved with sudden decision. She unclamped my right arm, then drew her sidearm, pointed it at my chest and stepped back.
“All right,” she said. “Free yourself and come with me. We’re going to talk with my primus.”
“How about your tribune?”
Belter looked troubled. “I don’t think he’s been revived yet.”
I brayed with laughter while I fumbled out of the clamps. “That’s old Turov again. She’s tricky that way. Doesn’t like high-level brass around. They argue too much when she wants to do something off-script.”
“She’s dramatically off-script on this campaign, I’ll grant you that. You’ll repeat your story to my primus, and you’ll go back to a cell. You won’t be permed until you’ve given a full deposition in front of an officers’ court.”
I knew now that Belter had taken the bait. She wanted to take on Imperator Turov, and she thought my testimony might be enough. Everyone in Solstice was mad at Turov for a stack of good reasons. I’d been counting on that.
She let me get dressed, signed me out of the detention center and marched me down the passages toward Gold Deck. I didn’t move on her until we were in a fairly lonely passageway.
I had a bloody streak down my ribs and was breathing hard before it was over, but she was face down on the deck, unconscious. I dragged her into a data closet and locked it.
Belter had fought well, but she’d made a critical mistake: She’d let me get my hands free.
-40-
Leaving Centurion Belter asleep in the data closet with computers humming all around her, I moved on determinedly. I strapped on her sidearm, happy that smart cloth uniforms could stretch to fit anyone, and marched the rest of the way to Gold Deck.
Fortunately, not every man in the task force knew me and my status as a prisoner. As it was a sensitive case, it probably hadn’t even gone public yet. No one wanted to create more witnesses than necessary for the Nairbs to question later.
I wasn’t challenged until I reached the hatchway that led to the command section, and there I used Turov’s name. They contacted her, and I waited and sweated.
Turov allowed me to pass the guards. That was a relief, sort of. I marched up to her office, and the door opened.
We greeted one another with guns in our hands. She was aiming hers at me, and I was aiming mine at her.
We both smiled tightly.
“Who ordered you to be released from detention?” she demanded. “I didn’t authorize it.”
“I wasn’t exactly released.”
She nodded, unsurprised. “All right then. What do you want from me McGill, you crazy bastard?”
I looked her straight in the eye. “The Key,” I said.
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t expected that one. “No,” she said quickly.
“I’ll bring it back,” I said. “I promise.”
“No way.”
“Then I’ll kill you where you stand and take it anyway. Your choice.”
She glared at me. There was blood on my face and scabs on my wrists. There was also a determined look in my eye that no one who knew me could completely ignore.
“Why did I let you in here?” she asked.
I wasn’t sure if she was asking me or talking to herself.
“I don’t know, sir. Maybe you like my smile. But here we are.”
She took a deep breath.
“No,” she said again. “I can’t let you have the key. Not even for old times’ sake, James.”
“How long has it been since you killed someone with that pistol, Imperator?” I asked her. “This is a duel at two paces. That’s harder to win than it seems. And if I win, I promise, I’ll perm you.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her small fingers tightened on her weapon. “You’d go that far?”
“Yes. I’m on a mission.”
“I don’t like threats. If I win, I’ll do the same.”
I shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to lose. This is all up to you.”
She saw something in my eyes or maybe heard it in my voice. She could tell I wasn’t bluffing.
“Have you told anyone about the Key?” she asked.
“No. Not yet,” I lied.
She lowered her gun and walked away into her office. This surprised me, but when I thought it over it made sense. If she went along with my threats, she knew I’d probably let her live. On the other hand, even if I killed her right here on her plush imported carpet, she’d be revived in the end, and I’d be permed for my crimes. The guns didn’t even matter in a way, as long as she got me out of her office before I erased her data with the key. For her, dying would be unpleasant but only temporary.
I took her sidearm anyway, just in case she changed her mind, and then I took the Galactic key. She had it in her belt pouch like I figured she would. Something like that was too valuable to leave in a safe or under your pillow. You had to have it handy for emergencies, or it wasn’t worth owning.
Getting close to her and searching her body—that did something to me. I could smell her perfume while I dug in her pockets. Her body was warm and firm, and her eyes shone in the office lights as she glared up at me.
Angry, but pretty. I couldn’t help but recall a few blissful experiences we’d shared in the past. I wanted to kiss her, but I sensed this wasn’t the right time.
“I’ll be back in half an hour,” I said. “I promise, Galina.”
“You’d better be, or I’m going to have you arrested again with fresh charges.”
“Wait until I get back, or I’ll go public with the key.”
After our exchange of threats, she watched me leave. She wore a sour, wistful expression.
As I walked down long passageways back to the aft section of the ship, I reflected on the strange chemistr
y I had going with this particular woman. It had to be the oddest relationship of my long and storied career with the opposite sex. On any given day, we were as likely to engineer the other’s demise as we were to make love. We’d done both, in equal measure, for years now.
She could have had me tracked down and arrested right now, of course—but she didn’t. Personally, I think that deep down she didn’t want to see the last of me. No matter how much she talked about getting rid of old James McGill, I still turned her on at some primitive level. Maybe we were in twisted, mutually abusive love affair. One thing was for sure: we were a couple made in Hell.
When I made it back to the detention center, the guards stopped me and moved to arrest me. I was prepared for that. I pulled Turov’s face up on my tapper.
“Let him through,” she said glumly.
I knew she didn’t want me to blab about her key. She just wanted me to get this over with.
The door into the torture chamber opened and slammed shut behind me a few minutes later. My two best friends were there, talking and sipping coffee. Randy—that asshole—he was playing a vid of me on his tapper and laughing about it. On his arm, I was squirming in the chair. It must have been a different version of James McGill, as I couldn’t recall having had that many needles shoved into me all at once.
Neither man was armed as they didn’t want to risk a prisoner getting his hands on a gun.
Bill stood up and looked at my pistol. He knew the score, and he didn’t even say anything. His eyes focused on the bloody stained deck at our feet. That’s all.
I shot him in the face, and he sagged down like a sack of meal.
Randy fought. One second, he was smiling and laughing at my video, and the next he snarled like a dog and charged me, getting in close before I could get my pistol lined up properly.
The gun spun away, and we were on the deck, trading vicious blows. He didn’t go down easy. I had to pin him. I even ripped out one eye, but he still fought on.